


Class Photo

by NightmareWolf



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of Identity, Nanami Chiaki Lives, One-Sided Attraction, Panic Attacks, Post-Neo World Program (Dangan Ronpa), Post-Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareWolf/pseuds/NightmareWolf
Summary: A lot has changed since that time, and Hinata Hajime has changed, too.Maybe too much.(Hajime/Chiaki is mostly platonic, with the exception of a one-sided crush Hajime has before The Tragedy)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Nanami Chiaki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Class Photo

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written danganronpa in forever hell yeah brother let's go
> 
> just a little key since this flips between time periods a lot:  
> 2009 = DR3 despair arc  
> 2013-2015 = Post-SDR2  
>  **!!ALSO,** Hajime is implied/referenced to be transgender. Not a major plot point though.  
> Another note, this is an AU where Chiaki lives in dr3 and joins FF around the time of AE. She goes into the NWP as a supervisor and all is the same except she's a person, not an A.I.

**November 3rd, 2009**

Once again, he was on the rooftop. You may almost believe this was Hinata's favorite spot to spend his free time considering how often he came here. Day in and day out—rather, a coin flip's chance of coming here after the school bell rang—Hinata would stand on top of the Reserve Course building; he'd travel up several flights of stairs, having gotten so good at it that, at this point, barely audible puffs of exertion would leave his lips as opposed to the once harsh panting (come on, there are a LOT of stairs!) once he set foot on the concrete rooftop. It was lined with a metal poll fence around the edges (almost begrudgingly in Hinata's mind, as if they could care less) to prevent people from falling or, worse, jumping.

Embarrassingly, Hinata leaned towards the latter. Well, _actually,_ right now, he was leaning towards the railing. Get it...?

He sighed.

He did this almost daily after the school day ended. He walked up the stairs, came onto the roof, leaned on the railing, and looked off into the sky. Sometimes the sky was gray, signaling snow or rain. Sometimes it was blue, albeit cloudy with rays of sunshine poking through. Sometimes it was orange; the sun set faster in the winter months. Whatever the case and whatever the color, the sky was the constant visual Hinata was greeted with. Not that it could _change_ , unless the world was a simulation or something—but that was just a ridiculous thought. He didn't believe in the matrix theory, although it would be nice...

For instance, if the matrix theory _were_ true, that means Hinata's actions, at the end of the day, bared no weight. He would not be a real person, and the world around him would be nothing but code. It would be grand, actually, if that were the case. Hinata could end his own life without feeling any sort of guilt or regret and—for all he knew—could press the "restart" button and be dealt a better hand to play with. But...as said, he didn't believe in that theory. So, he had to actually _think_ things though—whether or not killing himself was the best option.

Not that anyone would truly _miss_ him—sure, his friends and parents would be sad, he guessed, but it wasn't like it would affect the world or anything—but he wondered what he would be remembered by. Every time, as if part of this "ritual", he'd imagine what would happen if he _did_ jump. Would Hope's Peak try to shove it under the rug? Would anybody know about his death? Would anybody _care_? He was just a Reserve Course student. Nobody cares about a Reserve Course student.

Ah, but...when he thinks about those closest to him, that's when things start feeling wrong. A weird sort of misery makes itself known; his wrists ache with this unbearable burning sensation, like his bloodstream itself is inflected and set ablaze with emotional distress. Logically, he knows it's from acupressure (at least, that's his best guess) but it doesn't quell or subside the pain. 

He's made friends with almost everyone from the 77th class of the Main Course—he was almost like _one of them_ , by Souda Kazuichi's words. But he wasn't. He wasn't anything like them. For example, they had a future. He didn't.

Maybe the one thing that kept him from jumping was _hope_. Hope that it would, one day, be better. Hope that, even if he was worthless and talentless, he could still find confidence and love in something. Hope that he could be himself. Because if he jumped _now_ , he knew he wouldn't even get a proper send off. If, by miracle, it was covered in the news, he wouldn't even be given the courtesy of _Hinata Hajime, Found dead after jumping off Hope's Peak's Reserve Course building._ He'd probably just be unnamed, some random kid who took their own life. Or worse, he'd be remembered as some girl who wasn't even him. They'd be memorializing somebody who didn't exist.

Sometimes, he was _so_ close to doing it—to jumping. He'd put his foot on the bottom rail, his hands on the top rail and his bag discarded on the cold concrete— _one step closer_ —and then...he'd lower his foot back on the firm ground. _Tomorrow_ , he'd promise. _I'll do it tomorrow._

But he doesn't because, like it or not, he was too scared. He was scared of dying; scared of missing that potential _hope_ in the future. He was terrified.

Turning himself around, Hinata left the rooftop, letting the last wisps of wind blow through his hair and deafen his ears before seeking shelter back inside the building. Despite the throbbing loneliness, sadness, _misery_ in his chest and his whole body, he chuckled. Not in any lamenting way, either—and he wasn't crazy, neither—he just chuckled out of embarrassment.

 _I hope nobody sees me when I'm doing this_ , he thinks, shoes clicking against the floor in the now vacant stairways. _But every teenager feels this way, right? I'm just like everyone else here._

* * *

**September 28th, 2013**

He had just woken up. Well, actually that wasn't _exactly_ literal; he woke up approximately ten minutes ago, and now was frantically cutting his hair with a cheap pair of scissors. 

_Why the hell did Kamukura Izuru keep his hair so long? It's so annoying. It's terrible._ He snipped away with burning irritation, _angry_ at some facet of himself that wasn't even _him_ for dictating what he did to his body. He hated long hair; he'd never want to have long hair in his life. Surely, that was proof enough that he wasn't Kamukura, right?

"Yeah, that's right. I'm Hinata Hajime. _Hajime._ " he repeated the sentiment to himself under his breath—a mantra of sorts—as he watched dark brown hair flutter down to his feet at the command of each _snip_. "I've always been Hajime."

But as he looks up to the polished metal walls, he's met with two different eyes in the reflection. Dull, olive-green—perhaps tinted gold—and blood red. 

He's not so confident anymore.

Pushing down the all too familiar feeling of feeling like a stranger in his own skin, he continues to snip, more delicately now, at his hair. He's able to restore it to its short, choppy self but, even then, he can't say that it's confidently him. 

It was just one little thing out of place—like how his voice is slightly higher pitched now that he's out of the simulation, or how he feels more disconnected from reality than when he was in a simulation—it was his eyes. His _eye._

A sharp, lifeless, apathetic red; it would serve forever as a reminder of his mistakes. That he just _had_ to be tempted by the fruit—or whatever that _stupid_ religious allegory was—and succumb to his lack of confidence. 

But was that really his fault? He was a depressed teenager with no skills, nothing unique—of course he'd take the chance to become something extraordinary; to become a _someone_. It wasn't his fault that he was taken advantage of. No, it'd never be his fault.

It didn't feel that empowering, saying that over and over, when his own reflection was staring back at him; that eye was staring back at him.

 _Maybe I should just gouge it out,_ Hinata wonders for a moment, but he quickly scrapped the idea. That'd be way too painful and gross. _An eye-patch?_ Cute idea, but it isn't going to change the fact there's _somebody else_ in his body. Somebody who he shares his brain with. 

_Maybe I should have jumped off the roof while I had the chance._ Like a lightning bolt the thought flashes in his mind, and the resulting thunder brings back a barrage of memories from his life before the tragedy—before Kamukura. 

The roof. Every day. After school. One step closer.

Hinata dropped the scissors carelessly on the dirty floor, not caring in the moment about how rude that probably was. instead, his legs carry him out of the small, secluded room he was just in; he doesn't realize what he's doing—where his legs are taking him—until his brain turns back online, and he's staring down at one of the pods. Bathed in a soft, green light was Nanami. 

Nanami, the traitor, his friend; she had joined Future Foundation in the wake of The Tragedy and in response to the despair her fellow classmates had succumbed to. She served as the Neo World Program's observer, and thus was labeled as a traitor by Monokuma.

"Nanami..." Hinata could only find his voice long enough to mumble her name, placing a hand on the smooth, cold glass of the pod. She looked so peaceful, like she was just _sleeping_. Like she wasn't dead. He saw himself in that glass reflection—that _damn_ red eye, right above where Nanami's face was. Just like him, did she struggle with herself, too? Everyone does, right? Perhaps, she's internalized the idea she's a traitor? Just like everyone else—all the remnants—they were just like him; just like Kamukura. Maybe he struggled to see himself in the mirror, but...

 _But it's fine, isn't it? Everyone else...they probably feel like impostors of themselves, too,_ Hinata reasoned internally. _Yeah, that's right. We're all coming to terms with who we once were. It isn't just me. I'm just like everyone else._

But that line of reasoning is flimsy—Hinata realizes with a shiver—when he recognizes the tone he's using with himself is that of reassurance with a white lie—the hushed, quiet "it'll all be okay in the end."

He blames whatever analytical talent Kamukura held, because Hinata knows he's lying to himself.

* * *

**November 4th, 2009**

"—You're not listening, are you?"

"Wh...huh?"

Nanami looked up from her game console of the week—a PSP—and grinned at Hinata. "It's not polite to ignore a girl, you know."

"I-I wasn't ignoring you!" Hinata quickly defending himself, flustered with embarrassment that he had spaced off in the first place. His hand gripped the messenger bag's strap slung around his shoulder, his gaze trailing down to his feet. He could hear the fountain they sat on quietly spritzing water into its ever-filled pool. "It's just...I'm thinking a lot."

"That's the spirit," she joked back sarcastically in a flat tone. Taking the time to pause her game (something she rarely did), Nanami focused her complete attention on Hinata. "What's up?"

"Oh, well...it's just..." Hinata's gaze traveled up to meet Nanami's eyes. Her pretty, soft pink eyes. Despite not fitting the definition of what most would consider to be an "attractive" girl—eye-bags that could rival L from Death Note, more often than not unbathed, underweight and unhealthily pale—Hinata thought she was perfect; she was amazing. When he got caught up in how perfect Nanami was compared to him, he felt embarrassed—more embarrassed about himself than usual. _My problems don't matter,_ he'd tell himself. _I shouldn't burden Nanami with them._

"It's nothing." Hinata shrugged.

"Considering it took you around five point thirty-six seconds to say that, I'm guessing it's not nothing," Nanami countered.

"Y-You counted down to the decibel...?"

"No, I just guessed." she giggled. "But I'm really good at guessing games, so maybe I got it right?...Maybe?"

"I wouldn't be surprised...you're amazing enough to be able to," Hinata mumbled in response.

And just like that at the sound of his words, like a target, Nanami locked onto him. "This is about the whole Reserve Course thing, isn't it?"

Hinata's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Uh, because you just told me." She chuckled. "No, it's 'cuz...you talk like that when you're getting down on yourself."

"I do...?" _Even I didn't know that._ Hinata sighed. "Well, you're right. I...kind of am down."

Nanami hummed. "I know I've said it before, but..." she tapped her nails against the side of her PSP, "being in the Reserve Course doesn't make you lesser, you know? I mean, us in the Main Course...we already know what our future will look like. You get to choose, Hinata-kun. Isn't that amazing? You have endless possibilities, unlike us..." she nodded in determination. "So wear that Reserve Course title with pride!"

"Pride? That's like asking me to wear a sticker that says 'Sorry, I was born stupid'."

Nanami chuckled. "Come on...it isn't like that." Her gaze softened. "I'm just trying to say you have a lot of potential, Hinata-kun. Talent really isn't everything."

But Hinata only dismissed this with a "Yeah, yeah, I get it" before sighing. "But...it's...not really just about that."

The fact he spoke the words aloud only registered to him once Nanami hummed and tilted her head at him. His face heated up with embarrassment for talking without thinking first, and he suddenly felt like his tongue wasn't working; his tongue _refused_ to work.

"Hinata-kun?"

"I..." Hinata bit his lip, looking down at the concrete his black shoes were planted on. "I'm...scared I'm not...normal."

Nanami frowned. "Huh?"

"I-I keep telling myself—I keep saying, 'it's fine, everyone feels this way. I'm no different,' but...I'm scared that...that I'm wrong. I'm lying to myself."

Hinata didn't dare look up at the girl as he heard her soft voice. "I...don't quite get what you're saying, Hinata-kun. What's wrong?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, but quickly reopened them—an elongated blink, if you will—and looked up at the sky, his eyes focusing on the horizon of pine trees in the distance. "Sometimes, I...sometimes..." his eyes glanced over to the rooftop of a nearby building. He felt like his mouth was glued shut. "...Don't you just...want to reset your games sometimes?"

"...Huh?"

"Like, when a video game gets too boring and hard, don't you just want to...delete your save and start over again?"

Mouth just the tiniest bit agape, Nanami looked at Hinata with a furrowed brow; her face displayed an emotion somewhere between concern and confusion. "...When I restart games before I even finish them for the first time, I always regret it."

"Then, what about a game you hate? Do you just keep playing it? Isn't it better to just...throw it away?"

"N-No, it's—" Nanami's voice died off, and her gaze became sterner; more narrow. "Hinata-kun..."

 _Yeah, I was an idiot to bring this up._ He didn't like the tone she used with him, like she was going to lecture him or something. Hinata simply sighed. "Never mind, I should be—"

"No, no, I...I'm sorry."

That got Hinata's gaze to snap back to the girl next to him as opposed to getting up and leaving. " _Huh_?"

"I'm sorry, I..." Though her voice trailed off into a rather pathetic crack, her eyes were wide and worried; she was worried for _him_. Hinata would probably have been flattered by her concern had he not felt totally humiliated and depressed in the moment. 

But it wasn't long before Nanami's eyes closed with thought, her brows still furrowed. "You..." Nanami looked away for a moment, as if contemplating with herself before returning her attention. "You remind me of my old best friend."

"Your...old best friend?" Hinata repeated back.

Nanami looked the slightest bit upset—guilty, maybe?—but didn't stop talking. "Yeah...he was a lot like you. He wasn't very confident and pretty normal, and also pretty handsome," she tacked on jokingly, grinning a little as she elicited a blush from Hinata, but ultimately dropped back to a soft, somber tone. "We always played games together, everyday as long as I could remember. And then..." Nanami sighed deeply, each word leaving her mouth as if she fought the urge to keep them unspoken. "He hung himself one day in middleschool. Nobody knew why, but...I remember...he told me something a few days before he died."

"...What did he say?" Hinata hesitantly asked.

"He gave me a lot of his video games, and of course I asked him why. I think he said, 'playing the same game over and over again isn't fun anymore.' That really upset me to hear at the time, but..." Nanami idly clicked on her PSP's buttons, despite her game being paused. "...I don't think he was talking about the video games he gave me, because I knew he loved them more than anything. And now...it's really obvious what he meant, but I wish I knew that sooner. Maybe then I could have done something."

"N-Nanami, I didn't...mean to make you remember that. I'm sor—"

"Don't apologize," Nanami looked up at him, her expression serious. "Because...now I know what you mean—what he meant. Maybe...I can actually do something this time. I know it's not much and not healthy either, but..." Nanami scooted closer to Hinata, and she placed a hand on his lap. "If you're struggling to find a reason to live, then...until you can find that reason...live for me, okay? For everyone who loves you. I couldn't imagine a world without you, Hajime."

 _Hajime..._ The use of his first name made his chest ache with warmth. He placed his own hand on top of Nanami's. How funny, he thought, that their skin tones were so radically different in color. He was a healthy tan, while Nanami's skin was pale like a vampire. Even so, her hand was soft and warm. Her _gaze_ was soft and warm and full of compassion. _She really is amazing._ "Okay, I...I'll try my best. For you."

It was worth it just to see that smile.

* * *

He blames Kamukura, again, for whatever analytical talent he held, because he wasn't the only person lying to himself. He wondered how much Nanami cared about him and his life—he wondered how much the thought of him dying hurt her. After all, she went against her own honesty just to insure he would live.

Why else would she lie about the suicide of a person who never existed?

* * *

**April 11th, 2014**

Nanami had woken up, but Hinata hadn't talked to her much. He was...having a hard time finding his voice around her. And this time, it wasn't because he had some highschool puppy-love crush on her; it was because so many things about her confused him, but he couldn't adequately describe or name those things.

The two did hold a past together, and his working theory: maybe he felt ashamed to talk to her because she had tried _so_ hard to convince him to stay away from the Kamukura project but, in the end, he signed up for it anyway. And now he was regretting it _hard_ , which only made him feel more shameful. In a way, Nanami was the object of all his past worries, and...he didn't know if he could confront it.

If he did confront it, anyway, would it _matter_? It wouldn't be him confronting it. It would be some person that wasn't Hinata Hajime. Somebody who thought logically and not in terms of emotion.

It was an old habit—an old, _really_ bad habit, but he'd hang out on top of the roof to the motel on Jabberwock island when he needed to de-stress. Waking his classmates up, working with Future Foundation, working to come to terms with himself...a lot of it was demanding physically and mentally. On top of a tall building, he ironically felt at ease. Maybe because it was familiar; it reminded him of how he _used_ to de-stress. It reminded him of when he was Hinata Hajime.

Up here, sitting on the rooftop and gazing at the stars, he was Hinata Hajime.

But when he looked down at the potential drop, he was reminded that, _no_ , he wasn't Hinata Hajime anymore. He wasn't himself anymore. He'd never get that chance again.

If he jumped now, would he be remembered as Hinata Hajime or Kamukura Izuru? Either way, they'd be memorializing a person who doesn't exist, because neither are him anymore.

_Tomorrow. I'll do it tomorrow._

Hinata clung stiffly to where he sat, afraid he was going to fall.

* * *

**July 25th, 2015**

The last person to wake up from the pods was Komaeda Nagito. After their combined efforts, Souda and Hinata managed to remove any malware from Alter Ego's programming and utilize it to wake up the remaining students from their comas. Of course, some took longer than others; people like Komaeda were unstable mentally, so their process took longer to revitalize them as compared to someone like Mioda. However, after little over a year, the project was successful: all of class 77-B had been awoken. Everything was fine now—at least, logic would dictate that it were all fine now.

But maybe it was Hinata's bias; he didn't _like_ playing by simple logic, it made him feel too much like Kamukura if emotions weren't factored in at all. Logically, everything was fine. But to Hinata, things _weren't_ all fine. Because...

"Hey, Hinata! Pay some attention, will ya!?"

Hinata sighed, reluctantly turning his attention over to the annoying tantrum of Souda who sat a few feet away from him. He was fiddling with Komaeda's prosthetic arm—he needed one after having Enoshima's arm amputated, after all—and in all honesty, after its installation, Hinata wasn't paying much attention. Souda wanted to be the one to handle the whole situation and demanded that Hinata not use any of Kamukura's "superpowers" (as he so eloquently put it). Honestly, all the power too him—if it meant Hinata got a break from working, then he'd take it. He didn't want to use his "superpowers" anyway. He never thought he'd _long_ for the days where he was talentless.

 _It's not because I want to be talentless. It's because I want to be_ me.

"Check this out, I fixed the issue where the wrist was unable to roll _and_ I added more accurate muscle function. Pretty sweet, yeah?" Souda beamed a wide, shark-toothed grin and Komaeda giggled.

"It is pretty nice. Befitting of the Ultimate Mechanic," Komaeda replied in place of Hinata, smiling. "You really are too kind, you know? Going through the trouble to build me a whole prosthetic arm..."

Souda scoffed, his pointer finger tapping on the metallic arm of Komaeda's new prosthetic limb as if to make an exaggerated point. "Shut up about being modest and crap, or I'll spray paint this arm and make it look gaudy."

Komaeda giggled again, but this time it seemed more genuine and less mirthless. "Ahaha...if you do, make the bright Hot Wheels flames neon blue and not red, okay?"

"But then it won't match your jacket," Souda replied as if the topic of conversation had become completely normal. "How about green?"

Hinata smiled a little bit at their playful bickering, but he couldn't help but have his mind stray back to what he was originally thinking about. About himself—about Kamukura.

"I'm going to go back out. You finish up here, okay, Souda?" Hinata said, standing out of his chair. In truth, he barely heard whatever Souda responded with and the comment Komaeda tacked on before he left the small medical room and stepped out into the open. He took in a deep breath, his lungs filling with air—not _fresh_ air, considering the Tragedy had caused mass pollution, but it wasn't like he was inhaling smoke, either. Still, it _could_ be more refreshing, he supposed.

His shoes clicked quietly against the metal tiling making up a small walkway before his feet were planted on grass. 

_Jabberwock Island._ He had grown so used to living here that it felt like he never knew Hope's Peak or his own home. This was his home now, and he was his new self now.

Wasn't that kind of pathetic, the fact he hadn't figured out who he was after all this time still?

But—he thinks as he walks across the island, attempting to locate the old motel building—he was always that way; he never knew _who_ he was. Not in middleschool, not in highschool, and still not now when he was a graduate. He never had a strong sense of identity.

So why did it hit him so hard now? If life was always this way for him, then why was it only an issue now?

He placed his left hand on one of the cold handles of the latter connected to the motel, his foot resting on the bottom.

_The roof. Every day. After school. One step closer._

His legs felt weaker as he climbed up a step; he felt nauseous and dizzy. Why? He wasn't going to do anything. He wasn't going to jump. Why was he even thinking like that?

"Hinata-kun?"

The voice almost made him jump out of skin; more appropriately—the voice almost made him jump off the latter and fall on his back like an idiot.

"N-Nanami?" he turned his head and looked over. Sure enough, the other was standing on the ground, looking up at him with those same soft, sleep deprived-ridden rose eyes.

"What were you doing? You look kind of pale." Hinata let go of the latter, his feet landing on the ground only inches away from him. It was only when Nanami spoke that he realized just how _hard_ his heart was beating inside his chest; anxiety churned along in his stomach accompanied by an acute sense of adrenaline. 

"I'm fine," he answered. _You're_ _lying to yourself,_ a voice seemed to echo somewhere in his brain. "I'm okay."

"I, uh..." Nanami frowned. "I think you should sit down."

 _Should I?_ Hinata wasn't fully aware of why he should, for what reason; he didn't see why he needed to. But, it seemed he didn't have a choice; Nanami grabbed his arm and lead him next to the building. He felt like he was on autopilot—legs trembling, heart pounding—and he couldn't control his own movements. Wasn't _that_ fitting—first he didn't know if he was himself anymore, and _now_ he couldn't control his own damn body. Who even was he? Kamukura would never lose this much control. Hinata wouldn't let this happen in the first place. He just...wasn't either of them. He couldn't be either of them. He wanted to just be _him_ so, so badly but he _couldn_ _'t_.

_I just want my life back. I want to be me again. I don't know who I am anymore._

"Hajime, Hajime, _breathe._ " Dizzily, Hinata blinked several times. He realized he was sitting down, back against the motel building, with Nanami at his side. His knees were pulled up and his hands were gripping at the cuffs of his pants, right above the ankles, fingernails digging into the hems.

"Hajime." He noticed further there was a hand on his shoulder, gently—hesitantly—touching him. "Breathe with me for a second, okay? Think of it like a rhythm game." Loudly, she sucked in a slow inhale from her nose and exhaled through her mouth, keeping the same sluggish speed. Only when he tried mimicking her did he realizes his own breathing was horribly out of sync—rapid and shallow—and that trying to slow it down made him feel dizzier. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"I can't." Despite how he felt, his voice was rather monotone, the only emotion being gleamed from it was the breathless, choked way he spit it out. 

"You can. Just keep breathing with me." Again, just as loudly, Nanami sucked in a slow inhale and released it in an exhale. Hinata attempted to follow suit once more despite the growing faint feeling. After the exhale, Nanami spoke, "One," before suggesting they go to ten. Though that seemed _painfully_ far away, they were already on two, so he thought he could probably endure doing eight more.

That idea of endurance and feelings of dread quickly dissipated as he kept taking breaths in, however. By the time ten was reached, his dizziness had mostly subsided but it was replaced by trembling instead. He let the iron-grip on his cuffs go and instead wrapped his arms on top of his knees.

"You did all ten. That's a perfect score, you know—an S rank." Nanami smiled as she spoke softly, attempting to lighten the mode, but when Hinata failed to even crack a grin at her joke, she frowned. 

"Do..." she pulled her own legs up, wrapping her arms around them, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Hinata mumbled. He felt utterly exhausted, and the sun hadn't even finished setting yet.

"Oh, okay. Then let's just sit here until you feel like you can stand up again," Nanami suggested. Hinata only tilted his head (which felt oddly stiff after having suffered a panic attack—actually his whole _body_ felt rigid) when he heard Nanami digging through her pocket. She pulled out a small, pink egg-shaped device that Hinata quickly identified as a Tamagotchi. He supposed even the Ultimate Gamer played with Tamagotchis.

He listened to the _click_ of the tiny, plastic buttons as Nanami did...whatever with her Tamagotchi. He wasn't paying attention, honestly. He had returned back to staring into the distance, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. While this _may_ have been a good moment to contemplate what the fuck just happened, he was honestly just so drained that his mind had stopped producing complex thoughts altogether. For once, his brain was empty about any sort of convoluted thought about his identity or his past or passing suicidal thoughts. He just blankly stared at the sky; the constant visual he was greeted with.

There was a point in time where Hinata firmly believed the sky would always be the visual he was met with when he looked up. The matrix theory wasn't real, and thus the sky would never break and fall apart. But now, ever since the Neo World Program, he wasn't so sure. If his consciousness could be rendered that easily—if his whole _world_ could be faked in such realistic detail—then maybe the life he lived right now _was_ some sort of matrix. Maybe the sky _would_ come crashing down, becoming nothing more than TV static. The idea that something as firm and constant as the _sky_ could be just as unknown and muddied as himself was a scary thought. But, in its own way, it was almost comforting; the sky, although possibly ever-changing, was always known as "the sky". No one saw it as anything else and, if they did, they'd come to know of it as "the sky". In a way, it was the people who gave the sky the identity it had, and while atmosphere and clouds aren't sentient and therefore incapable of internalizing an identity, he supposed it _would_ happen given if the circumstances were possible.

...It was a silly, asinine thought, but Hinata came away thinking that, well, if something as abstract as _the sky_ _,_ ever-changing in color and season, could be comprehended and given an identity then perhaps it wasn't so crazy to believe _he_ could also obtain one. One that wouldn't waver even if he changed, outside or in.

"...Nanami."

Nanami looked up from her toy. "Huh?"

"Back then," Hinata started, "why did you lie about somebody taking their own life just to make me feel better?"

He didn't need to look at Nanami as he stared into the sky head-on to sense her shock. "H-How did you know!?"

He turned his head, grinning. "Because you just told me."

She blinked once, twice, before puffing her cheeks out in irritation. "That's not fair."

Hinata's grin only widened at her pouting response. He huffed in amusement.

But Nanami's irritation—half-feigned half-legitimate—soon dropped. "It's...because I was scared."

"Scared?" Hinata echoed.

"All I know is video games. I'm not really a...people person." Nanami glanced downwards at the Tamagotchi in her hand. "I...was scared. And I didn't know how to convince you to—to not do anything, so..."

"So you used emotional manipulation," Hinata finished bluntly.

The bluntness seemed to only upset Nanami, whereas Hinata wasn't even aware of how flat his tone had came off as. "I'm sorry, Hajime. I'm...really, really sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that."

"Huh?" the overwhelming guilt in Nanami's tone took him aback. "I wasn't trying to get an apology out of you, Nanami. I just wanted to know why, is all."

"But you deserve one," she countered back, looking up at him. "What kind of friend—what kind of person _lies_ about that kind of thing? And...after all, I failed anyway..."

"Failed? But I—"

"The project," Nanami cut him off. "I think...I think I said that you were my 'second chance' to achieve where I failed before, but...you still went into the Kamukura project. You...gave your life and your identity up. It's—It's not _death,_ but...I still couldn't do anything. I failed."

"But that isn't true." Hinata looked at her, meeting her soft, pink eyes. He wondered, silently, what she saw when she looked back at him; when she looked into his eyes—one olive and one red—what did she see? _Who_ did she see? "I'm still here, aren't I? I'm..." _No matter how it looks or how it changes, deep down, at the very core..._ "I'm still Hinata Hajime."

Nanami's expression, once with wide eyes and a discontented frown, softly changed to one much warmer. With a small smile and tranquil eyes that threatened to water up with tears, she nodded weakly. "You...that's right. You're still Hajime. You always have been."

* * *

"Ugh, jeez. You guys are _late._ " As usual it seemed, Koizumi played mother of everyone else on the island. Hinata chuckled with embarrassment, Nanami walking by his side tapping away on the Tamagotchi she had been playing with back at the motel. "Sorry, we were just hanging out."

He heard the clamoring of shoes against wood. Mioda came running down the dock bridge. "Oh! are Hajime-chan and Chiaki-chan here, finally!? Can we take the picture, finally!?" she held her hands up to her chest, clenching them in fists as she whined. "I'm so boooored waiting so can we just do it _right_ now!?"

"Be quiet!" Koizumi snapped, rolling her eyes.

"Uh...a picture?" Hinata repeated back in a confused tone, effectively turning it into a question. "Nobody said anything about a picture."

"Yes, well," Koizumi grabbed the camera hanging by her side. "I thought it would be nice to take a class photo of sorts...since we don't have any of our old photos back at Hope's Peak."

"Oh, that's a good idea." Hinata smiled, looking over at Nanami at his side, still playing her Tamagotchi as if she hadn't been paying attention to a single word said. But, knowing her, she heard every last word. "You should go join them, Nanami."

"You're _both_ joining, you know. It isn't a choice," Koizumi huffed.

But Hinata just narrowed his eyes, confused. " _Both_ of us? I was never in your class."

"Oh my—are you _really_ going to worry about that?" the photographer shook her head. "You're part of the photo _too,_ okay? We...we all want you there." Koizumi's face flushed _just_ a tad, quickly saying, "But that's just because you _are_ our classmate, so it only makes sense!"

"O-Oh, okay." Hinata chuckled again at her insistence, his chest warming at the thought his friends—his _classmates_ —really cared that much over one photo. Him and Nanami made their way over to the other side of the dock where everyone stood (well, "stood" is somewhat generous, considering Mioda was prancing around to burn off her energy before the shoot. Somehow, Hinata thinks that won't get rid of her energy).

He stood by Souda and Komaeda and Nanami followed suit. As he did, he looked over at the two whom he had left earlier. "No way," he said, almost shocked. "You _actually_ painted his arm!?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" Souda grinned, pointing over to Komaeda who's prosthetic arm was painted to have flames on it; the flames were neon green and outlined with bold, black outlines. It was the kind of design you'd see on a toy car marketed at young children in the early 2000s. Truly, a very "Hot Wheels" design.

"I can't believe you _let_ him?" Hinata said, then looking over at Komaeda. His statement morphed into a question midway through.

Komaeda giggled. "I can't either, honestly," he replied, smiling. "But I think it's nice! Souda-kun is quite the artist, it seems."

"Hell yeah I am! Next time, I'm gonna paint a—"

"Everyone! I'm about to take the photo so make sure you're smiling!" Koizumi interrupted.

"But what about you? You should be in the photo, too!" Hinata called back.

"What do you think the stand is for?" Koizumi retorted, motioning to a cheap camera stand a few feet away from her. "Honestly, are _all_ boys this dense?"

 _Oh._ Hinata flushed. Maybe his eyesight wasn't as good as he thought it was.

As Koizumi set the camera up on the stand and fiddled with some settings (Hinata wasn't sure what she was doing—he wasn't a photographer), she rushed over to the group, standing next to Saionji.

_Three, two, one—_

The shutter went off, and a _click_ was heard from the camera. Koizumi rushed back over to her camera to look at the photo it had taken. The camera, being a digital Polaroid, printed out the picture. Of course it would take a minute to develop, but in that time, Hinata curiously made his way over to where the photographer was standing to watch.

He ignored the chattering of his classmates behind him as he stood with Koizumi, watching the picture slowly fade into focus. Honestly, the photo was...a bit of a disaster. Mioda was moving around too much so she was slightly blurry, Pekoyama strained to smile properly, Nanami wasn't even looking at the camera...it was such a disaster, but Hinata wouldn't want it any other way. He felt that this photo really did capture the spirit of his classmates, and he wanted that over any cheesy, forced smile.

"Ugh, half of these idiots can't even pose right..." Koizumi mumbled, clearly agitated with the result.

"But it's really _us,_ don't you think?" Hinata said. "Everything about this just screams our class."

Angling her head as if a change in position would bring out a new light, Koizumi hummed. "I suppose...you have a point. It...is nice in that way."

"How's it look!? How's it look!?" Mioda called louder than necessary.

Koizumi rolled her eyes at the volume. "Hinata-kun, do me a favor before I lose my patience with the peanut gallery over there."

Hinata snorted with amusement. "Yeah?"

"Can you...date this for me? I usually date all my photos." while she spoke, Koizumi pulled out a blue pen from the same case that held her camera. She handed it to Hinata.

"I mean...I'll do it, but how come you can't?"

"Ugh, is it really _that_ much trouble?" Koizumi huffed, but her tone quickly softened. "You're...kind of this island's leader, aren't you? Future Foundation thinks as much. So I feel it's only fitting you write the date."

"Oh." Hinata couldn't suppress his own blush at that and, obliging, he took the pen along with the photograph. _The island's leader, huh?_

He heard some mindless chatting in the background, now with Koizumi in the fray, as he wrote down the date on the bottom of the Polaroid. Given that it was most likely late enough to be midnight and therefore the next day, he reflected that in the printing.

 _Maybe we don't all go through the same things and not even in the same way—maybe we're not like everyone else—_ he reflected as he looked over each classmate in the photo— _but we still have each other. So, I think that's more important than sharing some arbitrary struggle._ Hinata smiled. His eyes landed on the center of the photo; his eyes landed on _him._ Short, choppy brown hair, a white shirt and tie, and heterochromatic eyes. That was him. _I'm Hinata Hajime._

**July 26th, 2015**


End file.
